Word Of Your Body
by just drifting
Summary: Dominic sees something he shouldn't, and goes to Adelle about it.  DeWitt/Dominic.


**A/N:** This was written for Whedonland's Remix Challenge. The original fic is 'A Human Connection' by softly_me, found at this link: _._

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><p>He blames Topher. It's his fault, of course. There's nothing that little snot can do right. First off, how hard is it to lock the door? Or even close it, for gods sakes! (Not that that would have stopped him barging in, necessarily.) Or, you know, how about <em>don't <em>have sex with your assistant in the fucking _chair_? He has a room like, twenty feet away, which has a bed and a door and a _lock_ on that door. Much more sensible. And yeah, okay, chair equals kinky or whatever, but Topher doesn't really strike him as the kinky type of person. But he supposes, if he were to think about it (which he really, really, _really_, does _not_ want to do), Topher doesn't really seem to be the type of person who would _initiate_such an act either.

Which means Ivy started it. Which raises a whole lot of question like: _'Why?'_ and _'Topher? Really?'_ But, whatever, that's not the point. The point being that if Ivy was the one who started it, she would have been the one to choose the...location, and so, really, it's _her _fault.

But, no. He blames Topher.

He comes back to DeWitt's office and shuts the door firmly behind him. He actually has to resist the urge to lean against it, as if he's hiding from something. But, even though this is certainly something that _warrants_hiding, he is not the hiding type of person. So he stays strong. And...upright.

"Ah, Mr Dominic." Adelle smiles as she swivels in her chair to face him. "What did Topher have to say?"

Topher didn't have anything to say. At least, not on the topic he was meant to be asking about, and he's not sure Adelle would appreciate him repeating what he_ did_say. And he certainly doesn't want to repeat it. He doesn't want to have even heard it. But...he can't really explain that to Adelle.

"Topher was uh, busy," he says.

She frowns. "And Ivy?"

"Ivy was...busy too."

Her frown deepens. "I don't think that's ever stopped you before. In fact, I thought you took pleasure in annoying Topher, and this would have been an opportune moment." Pleasure. He cringes inwardly at her choice of words. Maybe a little externally, too, as she seems to be looking curiously at him.

"Yeah, well, not this time." Certainly not this time. He can't even imagine...

"Is something the matter, Mr Dominic?" Adelle asks. She's leaning forward slightly, curious. "You seem...on edge. Not at all yourself."

He doesn't answer her question. There _is_something bothering him, but he doesn't exactly want to discuss it with his boss. Instead, he asks, "Ma'am, what's our policy on inter-office relationships?"

Her eyes grow wide in surprise as she sits back in her chair. "They're _not_!" she says disbelievingly, understanding instantly, of course. And okay, yeah, maybe he wanted to share it with her so he wasn't alone with the horrible secret, but he'd thought it would take a lot more prompting for her to understand. It appears he'd underestimated her again.

He simply nods in answer to her question.

"Oh my." She laughs, and then covers her mouth with her hand, obviously trying to suppress a grin. She looks at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. "I am so sorry to have sent you down there." She lets out another laugh and swivels in her chair. "Oh dear, oh dear." She grins for another few minutes before sobering up and looking at him seriously.

"I'm sorry. This isn't a laughing matter." She sighs. "We'll have to keep a close watch on the two of them. I don't imagine this will end well."

"How do you mean?" he asks. He's pretty sure this is as good a laughing matter as they're gonna get, and he can't imagine what else it would be. But as he watches her walk carefully over to the bar and pour herself a drink, he can tell that whatever mirth there was has now left the room. A shame, really. He likes it when she laughs.

"Think of Topher," she says as she sits on the couch and looks up at him. His mind can't help flashing back to the scene in the imprint lab, of Topher looking up at Ivy. _Gee, thanks, Adelle_, he thinks bitterly. Way to help him keep his mind off that disturbing image. But she doesn't notice his grimace and continues, "Geeky, reclusive, socially inept. I highly doubt he goes out regularly for casual sex."

He grins but she doesn't return it.

"And then there is Ivy. Young, confident, beautiful..." He can't help thinking that she sounds a little bitter, but he decides not to focus on it. "I don't doubt that she cares about him, but I think this will mean a lot more to Topher than it does to Ivy." She takes a swig of her drink. "Stupid girl. How could she not see this coming?"

"Maybe you're wrong," he says as he takes a step towards her. "Maybe she really cares about him, just as much as he cares about her."

She looks up at him with a bitter half-smile on her face. "Wouldn't that be nice?" she asks. She holds his gaze a moment too long, before looking away. "But that's not how the real world works."

She takes another sip of her drink, and he is struck; suddenly, jarringly, by how beautiful she looks in the soft evening light; the delicateness of her features highlighted. It is a bad thought. A very bad thought. She is Ms. DeWitt, she is his boss, and nothing can happen between them.

He stands there awkwardly, waiting, as she starts to speak.

"It would be nice, wouldn't it?" she asks, still not looking at him. "To slip. To just...let go. To scratch that itch and _feel_ however we wish to feel and _do_whatever we wish to do and just...enjoy ourselves. Enjoy the ride, the feeling. No matter the consequences." He is not sure where it has come from, this sudden vulnerable situation; how she looks, expression so open. Perhaps it is the alcohol buzzing through her system, or the quiet reflection that the night brings. But whatever it is, it's dangerous.

Because, yes, he wants it; wants her. Wants to slip and to feel, just like she's talking about. He imagines doing it. Imagines walking over to her, taking the drink from her hand, and kissing her. Imagines pushing her down onto that couch and covering her body with his, and he'd hold her and bury his face in her hair and himself in the feel of her body, and they'd come apart together; just them and sweat and honesty.

But that's not how this works. As she said, this is the real world, and they are not Topher and Ivy. They do not act on urges, no matter how strong they may be. They are not weak. And so they will not break. They will continue to be Mr. Dominic and Ms. DeWitt, efficient working partners and nothing more. There is no room for first names and things like love and devotion in this job, no matter what both of them may want.

She looks up at him finally, and he can see in the darkening of her eyes that she has followed the same thought he has. They are always so perfectly in sync. A curse, he thinks sometimes. "But we cannot allow ourselves that weakness, can we?" He doesn't reply and she manages a smile for him. "Goodnight, Mr. Dominic."

"Ms. DeWitt."

He nods, and turns to leave. Before he closes the door, he watches her settle back into the couch and pour herself another drink, her sorrow clearly etched on her face.

He could go back in there, he thinks. It's not too late. He could go back in there and make her feel, make that heartbreak of hers disappear.

But then he reminds himself that he really can't, and he shuts the door resolutely behind him. He does not allow himself to regret this decision, or to think of the woman in that room, drinking alone in her office in order to forget, just for awhile, that while even Topher Brink of all people can get a girl, she has no lover's arms to hold her.

He reminds himself that he could never be that lover. There is no place for love in a place like this.


End file.
